It’s Cold Outside

Merry Christmas!

I hope you were all good boys and girls and Santa got you what was on your list.

Welcome to Flash Fest December!

I have some author friends who have joined me in this challenge, and are contributing to the prize baskets!

This week’s prize basket:

  • $5 Amazon gift card
  • 3 Free e-books 
  • Swag bag


This is how the prize giveaway will work:

Leave a comment throughout the week on any blog post, whether it’s the blog hop, flash, guest spot, or weekend writing warriors. I will select one of the commenters through Randompicker and post it on Monday’s post ( or rather Tuesday as it’s been lately, since my internet connection has been sketchy.) That person can contact me on Facebook or email me at:

The challenge is to write a flash piece, 500 to 1000 words based on a Holiday tune as a prompt. The author was given the option to select their own or I would assign one. Trust me,  my list of holiday tunage is anything but traditional!


Baby, It’s Cold Outside

“Baby it’s warm inside.”

by Sophie Wootten

A harsh, frigid wind tore through the building, ripping at the curtains, its’ sharp fingers scratching at the windows, whistling triumphant nothings as ice filled air danced a fine line between gifting a pain filled battering to the tired grey little building, and offering a gentle teasing caress to the once lordly seat. On the outside walls every shade of grey and green and brown bore delicate facades, lovingly carved by a previous owner whose new bride had desired to demonstrate the beauty of their home inside and out. She had brought warm fires, gentle laughter and the smell of gorse heather into the heart of every guest that had flung open her door, until quite suddenly she had been left alone, eyes filled with an aching sadness and a distant joy of memories once past.

“…I really can’t stay…”

The radio crackled softly as it shook between stations.

“The weather outside is some of the worst we’ve seen in many years…”

“… (But baby it’s cold outside) …”

“-Terms and conditions apply, please see our company information for more details-“

The firelight danced over the mahogany figurines on the sitting room table and cast soft shadowy silhouettes onto the wall as she fiddled carefully with the knobs on the radio.

“…My mother will start to worry…My father will be pacing the floor…”

The male shadow reached out a hand to his lady, swaying in the firelight.

“…I wish I knew how…” the woman danced away but was drawn back gently murmuring “…to break this spell…”

“… (mind if I move in closer?) …” the man sang softy, brushing her cheek with his hand. Penny touched her own cheek lightly, a long-lost smile gracing her lips.

“…My sister will be suspicious-” She had pestered her for months.

“… (gosh your lips look delicious) …” His had been, so easy to kiss.

“…My brother will be there at the door…” Her father had glared from behind him.
“… (It’s up to your knees out there!) …” It had been freezing, the coldest they’d ever had, feet upon feet of snow, just like today.
“…You’ve really been grand…” He had been. Such a gentleman too, walked her all the way home.
“… (I thrill when you touch my hand) …” Her hands tingled as she stretched her hands out in front of her, rubbing the tips of her numb fingers with her thumbs as if searching for a long-lost feeling.
“How can you do this to me?” Penny’s eyes were closed but her heart was burning. “… (think of my lifelong sorrow) …”

Clear liquid leaked from the corner of her eyes, the cold from the window freezing them into glistening ice crystals upon her face. She laid her hand gently upon the cool window watching for a car that would never come, her eyes resting both on the road and how her breath fogged the pane, absentmindedly drawing swirling circles upon the glass, forehead resting against the heavy worn frame.

Breath in, fade. Breath out, fog. Breath in, fade. Breath out, fog.

Breath in-

The fire had burned low, until a dim, red light was the only thing illuminating the room, the candles had long since been blown out by a gentle puff of air, the cat had quieted and had curled up by the worn slippers of her owner, offering a silent guardian and a quiet vigil as dusk turned to night, became dawn.

“…Penny baby it’s warm inside…”

About the author:

Sophie Wootton, 27.

Born and bred in the United Kingdom she studied English Literature with Creative Writing at York St. John University, UK and is currently working for an investment bank in London.
When she isn’t glued to the computer screen writing short stories and poetry, she spends time studying French, drawing for fun, using her cane to avoid the inevitable lamppost collisions and arguing with her cat in an effort to keep her side of the bed.

Leave a comment to let Sophie know you enjoyed her story!

Write on my friends, write on!